


Just Like

by flashindie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashindie/pseuds/flashindie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not a prince out here,” Merlin says, voice and hands somehow apart from himself when he starts pulling off Arthur’s armor for the evening. Arthur, forehead furrowed and voice languid, says, “I’m a prince everywhere.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like

There’s a no-man’s land between Camelot and Avalon, where magic breathes beneath the forest floor, between the ruins of broken kingdoms and the bones of dead knights. A place that Uther likens to the worst of the world instead of the best, and they’re sent out in hopes of civilising the barren land, the wilderness, and Merlin breathes the air like it breathes him, warms his throat and chest as knights’ set up camp, hunt and Arthur wanders, wonders. 

“It’s different,” Arthur says, head tilted and eyes curious. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

Merlin shrugs offhand, but it is, the Earth strange and unfamiliar beneath his feet, and when Arthur looks at him again, his eyes are drunk, his posture loose and unkempt and Merlin has to resist the urge to touch him, to pull his hair or palm his skin. 

There’s something here, there, that Merlin can’t think, can’t feel in any way that’s tangible, but it spreads throughout his limbs like new blood, like rebirth and birth and it must be magic, because Merlin feels younger and older than he ever has and Arthur is miles of unwandered skin. He thinks of crossing it all, of tracing spine and the bones of his back and his chest. He thinks of exploration instead of pillaging, of gain instead of treason. 

“You’re not a prince out here,” Merlin says, voice and hands somehow apart from himself when he starts pulling off Arthur’s armor for the evening. Arthur, forehead furrowed and voice languid, says, “I’m a prince everywhere.”

Arthur kisses with an air of entitlement, all teeth and lips, like Merlin’s the lucky one and later, with Arthur dosing, bare back facing towards the heavens, hair flayed across the forest floor and breath soft against Merlin’s shoulder, he thinks that maybe he is.


End file.
